A Hint of Magic
by Lemon Zinger
Summary: My advent calender responses (221bs) with the prompts collected and distributed by Hades for the December 2012 calender challenge of awesomeness! Thank you to all contributing authors and to all my loyal readers, reviewers, and followers.
1. Chapter 1

From Sparky Dorian: Wiggins is brought into 221B on the brink of death.

* * *

There is a cry of alarm from downstairs followed by footsteps rapidly ascending the stairs. Watson is giving instructions to our late visitor with a note of panic in his normally warm voice.

Curious, I rise from the bed and go to the sitting room to find Wiggins being gently set onto the settee by a constable as Watson hurries to try to mend the pale and still body. He checks vitals for several heart-wrenching moments, trying to pull the boy back from death's chasm, but finally he settles back, an arm over his mouth as he shakes his head slowly and looks up at me, tears welling in his eyes.

My blood runs cold. I hardly know what to think or say and I can only kneel next to Watson and stare at the boy as the constable backs away. I remembered the bright-eyed lad that had proudly reported to me only two days ago that the man I was trying to track was in the hotel he had been watching. I kneel beside the lifeless body and my eyes fix on a small piece of paper that is tucked into the small pocket on his trousers. I slowly pull it out and unfold it, revealing a message addressed to me.

_"Next time Mr. Holmes, do not use small boys." _


	2. Chapter 2

From cjnwriter: The Case of the Missing Ear-horn

* * *

"Sir, you say your ear horn is missing?" Watson inquires loudly. I close my eyes and pinch the bridge of my nose, thoroughly irritated with this situation.

"Now why would my earring need kissing?" The man asked, giving him a funny look. "I'm here so you can find my ear horn."

I snicker and Watson shoots me a glare. I know he will chastise my manners later, but the situation would be unbearable if I didn't allow myself to find humor in it.

"Where did you last see it?"

"I'm not conceited!"  
Watson groans and shakes his head. "No, sir, where was it last?"

"Oh… ah… I remember having it in my room." The man says with a proud and goofy smile.

"Sir, why don't you go look in your room and come back?" Watson asks.

"Why would I go to Timbuktu?" He gives Watson a funny look.

"Go look in your room." Watson repeats loudly. The man is finally ushered out and Watson returns, giving me an expression of relief. "He was your client."

"You're going on a diet?" I asked, mimicking our guest.

"Don't start that Holmes."

"Star hat tomes?" I tilt my head.

"Holmes!"

"I am sorry dear fellow."

"I should hope you are."

"You shoe hop yar?" I dodge as a slipper he throws goes flying by.


	3. Chapter 3

cjnwriter - Socks.

* * *

I dug through my drawer for the fourth time and sighed as I realized that my socks were most definitely missing. Finally shoving the drawer closed with a bang I left my room and went downstairs to find my recently returned companion sitting at his chemistry set and straining something through a piece of fabric he had stretched out over a dish.

"Holmes, have you seen my socks?" I asked.

"Which socks?" He inquired, his eyes locked on his experiment.

"My blue ones that I was wearing two days ago." I said.

"Those? They were gray." Holmes replied.

"No, they were blue."

"Gray."

I glared at him. "Holmes, for heavens sakes what does it matter? Have you or have you not seen my _blue_ socks?"

"I have not." Holmes answered.

I growled, turning to continue my search to locate the missing footwear. Then I heard him continue. "However, I did borrow your gray socks."

I whirled around and I studied the fabric he was using as a strainer more carefully. "Holmes!" I cried, indignant.

"I will clean and return them in a bit Watson, but they were the perfect color to avoid any stains – "

I shook my head, quite disturbed by the substance he was pouring through the sock. "Don't bother. Just keep them." I said. "But they are blue!"


	4. Chapter 4

cjnwriter - Mary tries to get Watson to tell her about the Giant Rat of Sumatra

* * *

"No Mary, it's not a story that I would share. I wouldn't want to frighten you…" Watson murmured as he sat in the armchair. I had come in a little late into the evening to find him talking with his deceased wife.

Caught off guard, I paused in the doorway and stared at the back of his head. His white hair was shining in the firelight in the dim room, and I could see his wrinkles creasing in a content smile as he faced the empty armchair opposite.

"Oh Mary, I could tell you a hundred stories of the great detective that won't keep you awake all night." He continued, responding to something he had thought he heard her saying.

I swallowed at this very conspicuous sign of a mental breakdown happening within my friend's mind. I had refused to acknowledge any other signs of age for some time, but this was something I could not deny.

"Oh but Mary, I do love you. I know Holmes can be a very fascinating person, but I don't want to scare you."

I finally walked into the room and put a hand on his shoulder. "Watson?" I asked, wondering if I could stop the hallucination.

He looked up at me and I caught a fog leaving his eyes. "Oh, you are finally back!"


	5. Chapter 5

embracetheweird - Holmes violin is being held hostage

* * *

"Please?" He asked, his eyes pleading with me to give in and return one of his prized possessions.

"Not a chance Holmes." I had him believing that we were all tired of hearing him play it, but rather, I was having it cleaned and restrung as a Christmas present. It was a small gift, but it was fun to tormenting him.

"But Watson I need music!" He whined like a child.

"Go to a concert." I suggested, knowing of several.  
He sent me a pouting look and I wondered for a moment if I would be able to avoid him discovering my plans before the next day when I would be able to retrieve the instrument.

"But I want to play my music!" He grumbled.

"I highly doubt your music is at going to help poor Mrs. Hudson's headache." I retorted.

He slumped in his seat and crossed his arms, looking like a small child whose toy had been taken. I was amused and could not contain my laughter, which only served to aggravate him all the more.

"I'm not giving you any Christmas gifts."

I simpered at him. "Oh, but Holmes, you know my greatest joy is not in what I get from you, but what I am able to give you without your prior knowledge." I replied quite bluntly.


	6. Chapter 6

Spockologist - Watson meets an old friend from the war.

* * *

I had sat down with coffee and a newspaper in a small café around the corner from our flat one morning when I had risen to find Holmes already gone. It was a few months after his return and I was unused to eating breakfast alone so I had come out to sit in public.

"E-excuse me?" A small shy voice asked.

I looked up to find a petite blond woman looking down at me with a timid smile.

"Yes?" I responded a bit surprised.

"I don't mean to interrupt, but are you Doctor John Watson?" She inquired.

I nodded, taken aback that she recognized me. "Yes?"

"You probably don't recognize me. I am Sophie Taylor, I helped nurse you in Pesh – "  
I instantly remembered who she was and I rose to offer my hand. "Sophie! It's been so long I hardly recognized you!" I cried, overjoyed to see her.

"I have read your writing recently and I was glad to hear you are recovering better than expected. So many of the men died or were disabled. You seem to be doing quite well." She said, smiling proudly.

I had hardly spoken to a woman at all since Mary's death, but I was immediately taken with Sophie. "I have indeed. If you would like we can discuss more over breakfast…"


End file.
